


red owl

by cigarettestainedeyes



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bondage, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Dom Steve Harrington, First Kiss, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Praise Kink, Whipping, also the explicit rating is because of the sex acts being described but there is no SEX in this, and they were ROOMMATES, but they will do it properly in this fic, first time at a bdsm club, mostly billy not wanting to take it too seriously cause he is in loVE WITH STEVE, no kinkshaming but the boys are like WHAT, the boys have never been in the bdsm world before, touch-starved billy, unless i do another chapter which i might depending on the feedback this gets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 16:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17881628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettestainedeyes/pseuds/cigarettestainedeyes
Summary: Billy was fine pretending he wasn't in love with his roommate.Until they accidentally wound up in a BDSM club.





	red owl

**Author's Note:**

> THIS is a birthday gift for my very dear friend whenwillwefall on tumblr.
> 
> If you're thinking "well that ended abruptly" it's because this was supposed to be a ficlet based off the prompt "want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?" but, as usual, I did TOO MUCH and I had to stop or else I would've been stressing over this for months.
> 
> If you like it, leave a comment and I'll add another chapter.
> 
> valkyrie0cain -- main  
> harrygroves -- harringrove side blog

Living in New York wasn’t as thrilling as Billy had thought it would be.

Sure, there was hustle and bustle, good bagels, and around the clock take-out but it was _fucking_ noisy and smelly and people were _mean_.

Luckily Billy was meaner.

He lived in a shithole but it was cheap and if he had to sleep on a wilting mattress on the floor and eat ramen five days a week, so what. It was _New York_.

The only good part was that his roommate was a fucking _treat_ to live with.

They were roughly the same age but Steve was taller by a couple inches. He was an amateur model and would make jokes about how the only thing he kept getting offered was porn.

Billy would laugh and totally _didn’t_ spend time swiping through various sites on his phone to see if he could spot that mop of brown hair, those intense, dark eyes. He never did.

While Billy lay dormant on the couch Steve would walk around the apartment in nothing but tight, black briefs, eyes bloodshot from his insomnia and hair sticking out every which way. Billy wanted to grip at it, thread his fingers through and _pull_. He peered at Steve out of the corner of his eye while pretending to play some dumb game on his phone.

Steve would come home _drunk_ , spouting on and on about some slut he’d convinced to drop to her knees after a photography set, always a girl that was shooting with him, another amateur full of diet pills and diet soda, another glassy-eyed, vapid, long-legged bitch that Billy had never met but hated on principle.

One time Steve had come home with lacy, pink panties hanging out of his back pocket and Billy could feel his hands shaking with the urge to reach out and grab them, toss them in the trash but he didn’t want to get, like, HPV or whatever.

The _most_ irritating thing though, was that Steve was all over him. Any time they hung out Steve would touch his arm, grab at Billy’s wrist, put a protective hand on his lower back.

It was _infuriating._

He hadn’t grown up in a family that hugged a lot or showed _any_ sort of affection, so the constant _barrage_ of brushes and touches made Billy gnaw on his bottom lip, pick at his nails, avert his eyes to the floor.

It also made him _hard_.

Overall just _very_ inconvenient.

They’d share cigarettes outside in the freezing cold, passing them back and forth as the smoke mingled with puffs of breath. Steve preferred eating off the same plate to “save on doing dishes”. It was daunting almost, how close Steve wanted to be to him.

But Steve was from some bum-fuck town in the middle of the US, maybe it was customary to be that intertwined with someone you lived with.

Billy didn’t ask him questions about it, honestly too afraid that Steve would withdraw from him completely.

So he put up with it, dealt with going to bed thrumming with desire no matter how many times he jerked off and waking up with wet sheets.

Lucky for him, Steve never asked why he did laundry so often.

 

*

 

It was a normal Friday night, Billy was too broke to go out and do anything so he sat in front of the television cramming shitty, low-grade pizza in his mouth, licking the grease from his hands and guzzling coke and rum from a plastic cup.

He heard the door unlock around eleven and turned to see Steve come in.

“Hey.” They greeted each other simultaneously.

“How was work?” Billy asked, muting the television.

“Long, stupid, kept fucking up the photographer’s angle so it went on for, like, three hours longer than it should’ve.”

“ _Shitty_.” Billy said empathetically.

“Yeah so, like, I wanna go out tonight, I need to be around _people_.”

Billy didn’t frown but he _wanted_ to. “Oh, sure man, have fun.”

“You’re coming with.” Steve said, as if it was _obvious_.

“Dude, I’m _broke_.” Billy replied.

“I’ve got you, they gave me an advance.” Steve said, pulled a wad of cash from his backpack and waved it at Billy.

“Wow, cash, huh? Isn’t that, like, _illegal_?” He asked.

“Are you seriously going to argue the parameters of this when I’m offering to _pay_ for _booze_?” Steve asked in monotone.

“Nope.” Billy said quickly, smacking his hands together to get rid of crumbs and shutting the television off.

“Great, change and lets go.” Steve said.

“Sure, we going to Matt’s?”

It was a local bar that specialized in boozy mixed-drinks and shitty top-40 music.

“Nah, my friend knows this place, says it’s super cool, she invited me.”

Billy resists mimicking the word _she_ with complete disgust, stops himself from rolling his eyes but just _barely_.

“Okay, so do I need to change, or?” Billy gestured to his faded _Foreigner_ t-shirt and denim jeans.

“I mean...it’s a club.” Steve says flatly, meaning he doesn’t _need_ to change but Steve would _prefer_ it if he did.

Steve’s in a white t-shirt and tight black jeans, coming directly from the shoot so he’s still got makeup on, contoured cheekbones and intentionally-smudged eyeliner.

He looks _unfairly_ good.

“Alright, fine, I'll put on a _different_ black shirt if that'll make you happy.”

“I'm doing cartwheels over here.” Steve reached into the cupboard, pulling out his bottle of cheap vodka and spinning the top off with his thumb. It clattered onto the counter.

Billy took his time cleaning up his mess before veering off to his bedroom while Steve took shots in the kitchen.

He found his one shirt that didn’t have a band or a brand logo on it and pulled it on. He glanced in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, not giving too much of a shit about the people he was sure to be forced to interact with.

When he rejoined Steve it was clear he was on his third or fourth shot already, face screwed up in disgust, the only time the lines on his forehead were prominent.

“Ready?” Billy asked.

“Yup.” Steve said, capping the bottle and clapping his hands together. “I’ll order a Lyft.”

Twenty minutes later they were in the deeper part of downtown, almost _across_ town.

Billy was expecting some classy, hipster joint with those tall tables and equally tall stools, the ones he hated that didn’t have footrests so his feet would swing back and forth aimlessly. He was expecting tiny lights inside mason jars strung up along the walls like it was an _original_ idea. He assumed there’d be appetizers too small to fill up on, be one of those ‘beer and wine only’ joints.

It was none of those things.

The few windows were darkened, no swarms of people smoking outside and making mindless small-talk. The letters, lit in neon red informed him it was the _Red Owl._

“How’d you find out about this place?” Billy asked, peering at it from the window of the car. 

“Told you, one of the girls at the shoot mentioned it, let’s _go_.” Steve threw open his door and barreled out like he was on a mission.

Billy wanted to stand outside and smoke a cigarette but that wasn’t an option with Steve already at the door, hand on the knob.

He quickly followed, on Steve’s heels as he entered the club.

They were engulfed in darkness and when his eyes adjusted he realized there was a single window with a light inside it, one bulb hanging precariously low over the bald head of a man with a thick beard wearing beady glasses. The pot had clearly once been a coat-check area but had been renovated into a bouncer station.

The man was peering at a book and Billy wondered how shit his eyesight was having to sit in this lighting trying to read.

He looked up when Steve and Billy approached.

“ID’s.” The man said stiffly.

They handed them over and the man inspected them closely.

“Alright, thirty bucks each and you have unlimited access to any of the public displays. Anything private and you gotta request it at an additional cost.”

Steve and Billy exchanged glances.

“Uh, we’ll just do the thirty each.” Steve said, fishing some bills out and sliding them across the counter.

“Steve, that’s pretty hefty.” Billy hissed.

Steve snorted. “Please, my next check will cover rent for the both of us. Let me treat you tonight.”

The man grabbed the money and smirked a little. “First time?” He asked.

Steve started to say something but seemed to think the better of it and just nodded tightly.

“Have fun.” The guy said and pointed to their right.

They looked and saw the outline of a door, light coming from under it. When they approached a buzzer went off and they were able to push through.

There was music, a loud trance-like tune that seemed to be intended to entice and it was at least ten degrees hotter.

They were looking at a bar that wrapped around in a circle, red lighting the only thing that made anything visible. Red was the only color in the room.

The people flanked at the bar were all practically naked, the only clothing seemed to consist of leather or rubber, chains and nipple rings, some wearing chokers that had little circles in the front, almost like collars.

There was the smell of sweat and leather in the air.

That’s when Billy realized that there was another sound, something buried under the music.

People were moaning, crying out, _begging_.

And it wasn’t being pumped in through the sound system.

All around them were red spotlit areas with throngs of people huddled in groups.

“What...is this place?” Billy asked but Steve didn’t hear him.

“Want a drink?” Steve shouted over the music, grabbed Billy’s arm tightly like he needed support.

“Yeah.” Billy yelled back and they moved toward the bar.

Once they had drinks in their hands Billy bravely took a look around.

Closest to them was a woman strapped to a cross-like device being whipped by another woman in a leather corset and high, black heels. The woman that was tied up had a face of pure ecstasy, like every time the whip made contact she was being transported to a world of bliss.

Another station had a man tied to a table, something encasing his cock that stood tall and angry. A man wearing a leather dog face-mask meandered around the table, taking his time, holding what appeared to be a curling iron but when he dipped it closer to the tied up man, when he touched the tip of it to his body, an electric shock was distributed.

At another station a woman was on top of another tied-down man who wore a blindfold and had earphones in while the woman was dripping hot wax from a burning candle onto his chest. 

All around them people talked loudly in groups and let out whoops of encouragement.

One woman had her chest covered in clothespins, all digging into her flesh and Billy could barely look at it without feeling the ghost of it on his skin.

He leant in and got his mouth close to Steve’s ear. “So this is...uh...a place.”

“Yeah.” Steve said, turning his head and shouting to Billy. “I don't think my friend mentioned anything about this.” 

“Do you see her anywhere?”

Steve glanced around, squinting. “No, but some of these people are wearing masks so I don't think I’d be able to pick her out of this crowd.”

“Okay, so, we should finish these drinks and go, right?” Billy asked, feeling hot suddenly, his shirt tightening.

“Um, I don't know. Let’s just...check it out.”

“I have, it’s terrifying.” Billy tells him flatly.

“Oh, c’mon, let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into.” Steve said, lips pressed right against Billy’s ear. 

A shiver ran down his back and he tried to brush it off by draining the rest of his drink.

“Another round!” Steve shouted to the bartender.

 

*

 

A few drinks later they were brave enough to do a loop.

Steve had an arm wrapped around Billy’s waist and they walked around pressed tightly together while shouting over the music and eyeing the displays apprehensively. Billy was warm, cheeks ruddy and sweat on his brow and he almost wanted to push Steve off. _Almost_.

There were a row of doors against the back wall with sheets of paper laminated next to each door describing the events going on inside and listing prices. In front of each door sat a tiny velvet rope and a man standing beside them to take money and let people in.

“Mature group pissing.” Steve points at one of the signs.

“Pass.” Billy says flatly.

“No _shit_.” Steve says.

“That’s the next room over.” Billy holds a finger out.

Steve sucks in the side of his cheek. “We need to leave.”

Billy guffaws. “ _You_ wanted to check this out, we’re barely through half the...displays.”

“Why the _hell_ would Roxie think I would enjoy this?”

Billy shrugged. “Maybe she thinks you’re a submissive.”

Steve moves away from Billy a little, face reading utter shock. “Um, what makes you think _I’m_ submissive?”

Billy blinks, opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “I-I don't, I mean, I’m not saying _I_ do, but maybe _she_ did--”

“Okay,” Steve holds up a hand to stop him, “we’re trying one of these." 

Billy’s eyes widen, “Steve, no, I didn’t--”

“ _Come on_.” Steve says and grabs Billy’s arm, leads him over to one of the rooms.

“Here, bondage and humiliation room, it’s the same as that one over there--” Steve gestures to the whipping station where a new couple is strapping in, “--just with privacy.”

“Steve, I don't _need_ you to prove anything to me, this is _crazy_.” Billy’s throat is contracting, he can barely gets the words out as the panic starts setting in.

“Here.” Steve shoves some bills into a man’s hand who stands besides the door. He pockets the cash and unhooks the velvet rope, gestures them forward.

Steve opens the door and walks in, waits right inside and points further into the room, eyes on Billy.

“March.” He says firmly.

Billy swallows and steals a glance at the man standing there who just blinks at him pointedly, like, _well, what choice do you have?_

“You boys got an hour, don't forget to wipe everything down with the sanitary wipes afterwards!” He shouts to them as Billy stumbles into the room, Steve shutting the door firmly behind them.

The music’s muted, the room is dark and it’s the first time they aren’t in being flooded with red light.

There’s one of the cross devices with leather straps hanging from it, a wall of whips and rods, chokers, paddles, and _ball gags_.

Billy’s shaking.

“H-hey, okay, you paid for a room, joke’s over.” Billy says, laughing a little but it’s not a _ha ha_ laugh, it’s laced with a bit of crazy, more of a _save me_ laugh.

Steve is at the wall, fingers lightly running over the selection of _tools_ at his disposal.

“Steve.” Billy says sharply.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Steve’s tone is...darker, _intense_.

“ _Steve_ \--”

Steve turns sharply, eyes a bit hooded, he’s gnawing on his bottom lip. “Amuse me.” He says simply before taking off his shirt.

Billy steps back, like Steve being shirtless has somehow created a forcefield pushing him back.

“Take it off.” Steve says, taking back the space and walking closer to Billy.

“I--I’m not-- _no_.” Billy says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ve _seen_ you naked. Do it.” Steve insists.

“ _No_.” Billy repeats.

Steve’s directly in front of him, pulling at Billy’s arms.

“You’re not being very _good_.” Steve says, and he’s not giggling, not choking back a laugh.

He’s being deadly _serious_.

And it’s totally giving Billy a boner.

But it’s a _joke_  it’s _got_ to be and Billy’s not going to let Steve know how badly he wants to-- 

“You wanna be _good_ , don't you?” Steve asks, his eyes getting a little lighter, his tone softening.

Billy gapes at him and Steve gets a hand on his face, cradles it a little and Billy absolutely does _not_ melt.

“Show me how good you can be.” Steve whispers.

Oh my _god_ , this is _absurd_ \--

\-- _ly hot_.

Steve steps back and Billy does _not_ sway forward a little.

Steve’s eyeing him, waiting and Billy’s fingers eventually move to the hem of his shirt, hesitating again before finally lifting the fabric and pulling it over his head.

It lands at his feet and Steve stands a little straighter, shoulders lowering, like a cat unfurling from the attack position.

“That’s _good._  Now take off the rest of it.”

Billy meets his gaze and it’s a wordless challenge--for a moment--before he kicks off his shoes and gets his hands on the front of his jeans, popping the button.

Left in nothing but his boxers, Steve cocks an eyebrow and Billy knows he’s expected to take those off as well.

Finally he’s naked and Steve smiles, all teeth. “Come here.”

Billy does what he’s told, wearing only his socks and walks slowly towards the cross while his heart pounds in his chest.

Steve intervenes and grabs onto his shoulders, makes Billy turn around, takes a step closer so they’re exchanging air.

“What--” He nearly chokes as Steve gets that domineering hand back on the side of his face, adjusts it so he’s got his chin pointed up.

Up until this moment Steve has come across completely nonchalant, comfortable being in control. Now his eyes are heavy with hesitance. “Seems...ridiculous not to--before I--yeah--” Steve stammers, presses his mouth over Billy’s.

It’s warm, inviting, _preciously_ intimate and Billy remains still for only a few seconds before he’s returning the kiss, acutely aware of his dick pushing into the rough fabric of Steve’s jeans.

There’s the barest hint of tongue, a swipe or two that doesn’t really _commit_ and Billy chases it greedily but Steve’s pulling away, not giving him what he really _wants._

He’s desperate to keep the contact, reminded of his nudity when Steve’s body isn’t touching his and he tightens the hold he’s got on Steve’s arms. 

This time it’s him whose shaky with his words, “Just, please--” And he pulls Steve back in, mouth open and he lets his tongue slip inside, tastes the heat and hint of booze.

Steve groans, his hands slide lower, touch Billy’s hips.

But it’s still not--

 _They’re_ not--

This is just...a thing. A one time thing. A completely fucked-up, random, single occurrence.

Billy doesn’t want to treat it clinically, would rather collapse into Steve and let himself get trampled under the daunting weight but the voice in his head stops him.

He’s not fully invested because he can’t be.

It would hurt too much.

He’s the one that pulls back this time.

His eyes are to the floor. Steve’s pushing, has his hands flat on Billy’’s chest, moving him where he wants.

Billy’s got his front pressed to the leather cross and feels himself check out a little as Steve takes his wrist and brings it up, pulling the strap over and locking it in place. His body has become jelly, each limb something for Steve to take control of, each move another step in relinquishing his power.

“Okay.” Billy whispers, more to himself. “Okay, okay okay.” 

Steve reaches over and ties his other wrist up.

Billy pulls experimentally. It doesn’t give.

Steve bends down, goes for an ankle and Billy jerks at the touch.

“Is, is that really _necessary_?” Billy asks, his voice betrays him and he hears it, the _hysteria_.

“Yeah.” Steve says like it’s not something to be argued with.

He straps Billy’s ankles in and then it’s over at that point, Billy is at his mercy.

His skin breaks out in goosebumps while Steve walks around, there’s noises like he’s grabbing for something.

It’s quiet for a moment and Billy opens his mouth, about to ask what the hell is going on when a ball gag comes around and falls near his mouth.

“Steve, _jesus_ , wait a second.” Billy says, mouthing at the leather of the cross.

“Be _good_.” The same demand.

Steve is press, press, pressing the ball gag against his mouth and he opens, _wide_ , as it brushes past his teeth and is secured.

“Ho’i’it.” _Holy shit_. Billy says.

His mouth fills with saliva and he swallows roughly while there’s more movement behind him.

“ _Fuck_.” Steve says roughly, like he’s working on the word around his tongue.

He hears the sound first.

He can’t see the whip, but it’s a single-tethered, and it hits his ass sharp.

Billy cries out around the gag and drool passes the ball, drips down and he can feel it on his chest, on his thigh.

“Oh my god, I bet you had no idea.” Steve’s mumbling.

Another crack, another hit and it’s _too_ much but it’s _so_ good.

“ _Jesus_ , Billy. You never knew, did you?”

Steve’s voice is _so far away._

But the hand grabbing at his side isn’t.

It sneaks around, forces Billy to arch his back so Steve can grab at his dick. Billy keens behind the gag, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. His skin is _singing_ but the hand on his dick is countering the pain, making a sick push-pull thing happen in his stomach, his skin crawls with the different feelings he’s got coursing through him.

The adrenaline is intoxicating.

“So tell me again... _who_ is submissive?” Steve’s chest is up against his back, his mouth buried in Billy’s hair.

Steve breaks away and throws out another hit.

It’s on Billy’s back thigh this time and he clenches with the contact.

He babbles behind the gag, Steve’s cool hand touches his ass where the skin is red and hot to the touch and it makes him shudder.

“Mmph!” Billy’s trying to say something but Steve isn’t listening at this point, just caressing and pinching his rosy cheeks.

“I see.” Steve hisses, huffs out a breath. “How you look at me.”

Billy’s strapped to a cross in a fucking _BDSM_ club but _that_ makes his heart stop.

“I _know_. I’ve known for weeks. Every time I touch you, you look...terrified, like someone’s going to bust down the door and kick the shit out of you.”

Steve shows mercy, his fingers work quick at the leather strap at the back of his head and it almost _hurts_ as the gag falls from his mouth, gets trapped between his chest and the cross as Steve lands another blow on his ass.

 _“Ahh!”_ Billy cries out, head falling back, arms pulling at the restraints.

“How does it feel?” Steve whispers.

Billy’s head is swimming and he barely hears Steve.

“F-fine.” He says, panting through his words.

“ _Just_ fine?” Steve’s breath hitches and the tip of the whip is tracing over his ass, like Steve's writing his name in cursive, a brand Billy will feel for days. 

“I-I’ve never--”

“I _know_. But. Would you ever do this _again_?” Steve asks, begging for validation.

Billy huffs, nuzzles his head into the leather a little before turning his mouth to the side a little and almost _sobbing_ , “ _Yes_.”

He can _hear_ the way Steve shudders, tenses as Steve comes back up behind him, touching him lightly.

“Only for me though? _Right_?” Steve hisses.

“Yes, _god_.” Billy gasps as Steve hand steals around to his front again, brushes over his dick.

“ _Good_.” Steve murmurs in his ear, gives his dick a light squeeze.

Billy feels the chill as Steve pulls away.

“Can you handle more?” Steve asks.

He wants to, he’s _dying_ for more, and that scares him a little, his arms tug against his restraints.

He wants to say yes but--

his ass fucking _hurts._

Billy slowly shakes his head.

“C-can’t.”

Steve puts a hand flat on Billy’s back, lets it fall down slowly and Billy tightens the muscles in his back, jerks his hips, pushes his ass into Steve’s hand.

“You’d have to though, wouldn’t you? If I _made_ you.”

Billy rubs the side of his face on his shoulder a little, “ _please_ , Steve,” he whimpers, “ _can’t_. I want to but--”

Steve’s fingers wrap around Billy’s wrist where the strap is. “I know, baby. It’s okay. I’ll let you out.”

Slowly, he undoes the latch and Billy’s arm falls.

It’s like a balloon deflating, the way his chest lets out air.

He’s a good boy, he waits for Steve to unlatch the rest, doesn’t go for any of them himself.

Billy turns to face him, realizes he’s _shaking._

Steve immediately wraps his arms around Billy and pulls him close.

“You did such a good job.” Steve says against his temple.

Billy doesn’t know _why_ his eyes feel wet. “Thank you.” He says in a hushed voice.

“I’m sorry if it was too much.”

“Wasn’t. You’re--it was perfect.”

Steve tilts his head back, gets a good look at Billy’s face. “Were you serious about doing this again?”

Billy swallows, pretends to look contemplative even though he’s still hard, but he’s not bothered by it, the places where the whip touched him are sensitive and he wants Steve to touch those more than his dick. He’s discovered a whole new high and he’s heady with it, knees threatening to buckle.

“Yeah.” He says with a small smile. “Long as you were serious about it only happening with you.”

Steve takes a deep breath, returning the smile. “ _Yes_.”


End file.
